Vendetta's Moronic, Utterly Avoidable Mistake
by I am the Poptart
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. When Vendetta makes an error in her plans, how will she-and everyone else-be affected?
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING: Original Characters (they don't screw around with canon much, though) and a completely unexpected pairing.  
Okay, ladies and gents. I've liked MF for **_**thi-i-i-i-i-i-i-s **_**long and I've yet to make fanfic. But now it is the time to submit MY piece! Hope it is enjoyed, and I've tried not to deviate from the original. Ta-dah!**

Mort stepped out from behind the red curtains set in his room. He wore a smart black tuxedo and an expression that tried to be serious, but (being Mort) came off as charming and a bit funny. He was staring directly in front of him, as though at an audience.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." He said to nobody in particular—_you_, perhaps. "The following tale my shock you. It may even horrify you. Viewer discretion is— "

"MORTIMER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE?" a shrill voice demanded from downstairs. Mort winced.

"Erm, nothing, mother!"

"Well, hurry up and finish nothing! Your clam-and-bean sprout casserole's getting cold!" the sound of footsteps was heard. Sheepishly, Mort went back behind the curtains.

"_Let the show begin 'kay thanks!"_ he said quickly.

-000-

Vendetta's head was about to go through the _wall_. How did that stupid girl keep getting in here?

With disgust, she glared at the blue bimbo in front of her, who was bobbing from foot to foot as she danced around her unfit kitchen/fiend lab. She wanted to shoot that bow right off of Charlotte's head as she giggled, singing (again) about the joys of…  
Politics.  
…Okay.

"_Forty-four presidents!  
Pretty White House residents!  
If we met each other,  
I'm sure we'd be best friends!" _Charlotte stopped, taking the opportunity to lace her arm around Vendetta's shoulder and pulled her close. "But not bester than US!" She added gleefully.

Enraged, Vendetta pried the hand from her and threw it back at Charlotte, who was dumb enough to let it hit her in the face.

"STUPID LITTLE GIRL!" She spat. "How do you keep entering my house? Leave at once and leave me to my fiends!" in a second, Charlotte was right back over her shoulder.

"Can I watch?" She asked sing-songily. Vendetta groaned.

"No! You may not. Your mere PRESENCE is bound to offset something!" Charlotte paused for a moment, as though thinking. But she couldn't be, for she had no brain. After racking her empty skull, she asked sweetly, "What are you baking?" Vendetta sighed.

"We have been through this a thousand times, you idiot! I am not baking cookies, I am not baking pie, I am not baking cupcakes, I am not baking muffins, I am not baking biscuits, I AM NOT BAKING! I AM MAKING! A! FIEND!" she hollered, with enough force to blow Charlotte's hair straight out of the curls, waving a schematic in the air wildly. Rather than leave, the blue girl just laughed obliviously and grabbed the schematic.

"Huh?" Vendetta asked in confusion. "G-g-give me that back!" She swiped at it while Charlotte unrolled it, taking a peek. "Y-you will regret this!"

"Ooh! Vendetta, this picture you drew is so pretty!" she exclaimed. "It looks like the one I drew earlier!" at that, Charlotte rolled up that plan and pulled out one identical to it from…nowhere at all.

"What? _You_ drew a schematic?" Vendetta asked. "Of what?"

Charlotte beamed. Finally, her best friend was curious about her interests! "It's for a LOVE potion!" She squealed, pulling Vendetta into a strangling hug. To this, the green girl's mouth and eyebrows flattened. So much for obfuscating stupidity. Forcing Charlotte off of her, she grabbed back a—I'm sorry, _her_ schematic and said, "Hmph! I've no time for your childish nonsense!" It was at this moment that Grudge stomped in, a coffee mug in hand. "HAMSTER!" Vendetta pointed out the door. "REMOVE OF THIS GIRL!"

With an unceremonious toss, the order was carried out, with Charlotte landing flat on her face.


	2. Chapter 2

***dashes in* I AM HERE!**

**Gypsy Rosalie: The best part is the thousand or so ways it can go.**

**xx99'luftBALLONS: U WANT MOAR WELL HERRE ISH TEH MOARZ**

**DoOfY aNd PeRrY: Tank you vewwy much! And, judging by your username, you know where it came from, too.**

**LET US BEGIN.**

This could not be true. Nay, nay! Well, of course it was. After all, he just gave himself a paper cut with the thing.

Malachi sat in his mailbox-less (for they are evil weapons of Satan) dead yard, staring at the bill. This couldn't have been right, could it? His family was poor, yes, but his father had been certain he had already paid these expenses! And the local market was in trouble, too, but clams did not cost $45!

Malachi sighed, scratching the back of his head. Why on the holy Earth would yon pigtail one try and milk such currency from such a poor family of a former pastor? Why would she stoop to forcing out from them money they did not possibly have? Why would she force such fiends upon them if they refused? Why would she resend a bill that was already paid for to a family already struggling?

…Oh yeah, she was evil.

Malachi sighed again, now more heavily, and stood. What could be done?

"YO, SADBOY!" A piercing voice wailed now. The purple boy's blood froze. Ensuing tackle in three, two, one-

A brighter purple girl in a sock hat pinned Malachi face-down to the lifeless brown lawn. Oh, the infinite nuisance.

"Thou must removeth thineself from my spine…" he squeaked in utter pain. With a smirk, the girl stood, allowing Malachi to stand. He dusted off his pants, regained his stature, and asked, "Why hast thou taken thine unfathomable satanic energy out upon me once more, Lady Monica?"

The girl stared blankly. Malachi groaned, pressing a hand against his head. He then started again, speaking slowly, for he did not know the proper words. "Why…are…you…crazy…and…jumping…onto…me…again…Moni…Moni…"

"Monique!" the girl finished for him, slapping his back. "Just trying to grab ya. Why the long face, boy?"

"'Tis this bill!" Malachi replied, holding up the paper. "T'was paid for, thee can be certain! But nay, yon pigtailed one says naught. And…and…she insisteth we repay these expenses, but we may not!" He buried his face in his hands, feeling Shakespearean tragedy course through his veins. In under a moment, Monique had grabbed him by his few strands of hair and pulled him up to her eye-level. "Well!" she exclaimed. "Y'all best get yo money back with yo peace o' mind!"

"…Hm?"

"I want ya to go back to Shmendetta's joint and tell her, 'it ain't yo job to make me choke up more money than I owe y'all!' Go!" Monique gave Malachi an encouraging shove, who stared in horror. It could only lead to certain death.

A large, blue fiend leapt out from behind a tree. It had overheard everything. It slapped Monique in the face with its tail, sending her flying. It then picked up Malachi and whisked him away to the decrepit house on McEvil Boulevard.


	3. Chapter 3

**AGH CRIMENY I'VE BEEN GONE TOO LONG **

**DoOfY aNd PeRrY and Bluee'EYES: Really? Pfsh. I thought she'd be annoying.**

**gypsy rosalie: WELL U KNO TEHY R PYUR EEBIL RITE?**

**AAAAND we go on.**

Malachi was dumped onto the floor of Vendetta's basement, landing on his rear. He gave a small cry of pain, partly due to that Vendetta would surely kill him for having talked about her in an unfavorable fashion (albeit indirectly). It was also due to that Vendetta was poor at keeping things neat and her wood was quite splintery, and he got a sliver in his ye olde bum, and by heavens it hurt like not-heavens. However, he couldn't possibly have cared any less about it the moment when the green devil popped out from under the stairs. Then, Malachi could only care about KEEPING his butt altogether.

"YOU!" Vendetta shouted, pointing accusingly. Suddenly her expression changed from angry to confused, followed by "You? The little Holy-Boy?" She laughed. "You're weaker and stupider than that pathetic Marvin! What could you possibly do to be brought to me? I guess that was a mistake." She slapped the fiend that brought him in the face. With a sulky expression, it tramped back up the stairs. Vendetta then picked up a large vile of pink liquid from the table, saying, "Let me show you this. See? It is my new fiend. I don't know why it's _pink_, but I do know that if I spill a single drop, it will create an army of mile-high fiends! Far too big for the basement—much less the kitchen. They will be added to the numbers of my service, and I may rule the stupid, stupid world!" She laughed maniacally before adding, "Now go, or else I will spill this whole bottle on YOUR STUPID BALD HEAD!" Vendetta then turned away from him, tending to her work.

Malachi paused. He would normally leave and dance with joy at the aspect of getting off scot-free, especially since he was innocent, but something kept him there. It was what she'd said about him. Weak. Malachi feared and loathed (but mostly feared) Vendetta, but he loved his little family more. And his father would take every opportunity to remind them all, "We beith poor. We beith lowly. We beith enslaved and miserable…but most over all, we beith the stronger over the tyrant, and this, we shall keepeth, and never lose." And Malachi kept this every day, and would not be told otherwise. This was his family, this was their belief, and no one, not even the most vile of green-bodied tyrants, could ever take this away from him.

Plus, she'd called him bald, and that made him self-conscious.

"I'm…I'm not weak." Malachi nearly whispered this. Vendetta's head whirled around, almost like an owl.

"Huh? What did you say?" Her voice was threatening. Nonetheless, Malachi took a single step forward.

"Nobody…in my family…is weak." His voice was only a slight bit louder than before.

Vendetta started blinking rapidly. Was this even possible? In all the seven years she'd ruled Clamburg, this was the first time that anyone had ever taken a stand. Heck, nobody had ever even taken a _kneel_ (proverbially, as everyone actually bowed to her). How to react, how to react…ah! Vendetta grabbed the vile, clenching the neck so hard it almost cracked.

"You stupid purple boy! You'll never pray again!" She threw the vile to the ground, and it shattered to bits—but no fiends ever appeared. Not even a single evil amoeba. Instead, Vendetta found herself engulfed in glittering pink fog.

"AAH! GET OFF, YOU STUPID FOG! I WILL KILL YOU! KILL YOU WITH FIENDS!" She screamed, despite the fact that she was almost choking. Malachi simply stood dumbfounded until the fog finally cleared.

Vendetta rubbed her eyes vigorously before looking back up, ready to screech and smack and kick and stab and kiss the boy.

…Wait. Something was wrong there.

Vendetta shook her head, going over what had just gone through her mind. Screech, smack, kick, stab…kiss. Yes, that was definitely a problem. The fog had probably just put a glitch in her brain, and she resolved to wait for it to clear out until she hunted down and killed Malachi. Still, her cheeks began to turn a light shade of pink, which looked odd against the green.

"Um…go." Vendetta pointed up the stairs. Frightened, Malachi scurried away, and never hoped to come within a mile radius of the place again.


End file.
